Down the Rabbit Hole
by sparrowed
Summary: In the midst of a dramatic fight with Batman, the Joker accidentally tumbles into a manhole, only to emerge into a slightly less...realistic world. Inspired by the concept of 'Enchanted'. Oh, and yes. Yes, there will be singing.
1. Good Riddance

**Down the Rabbit Hole**

The cracking sound of a pummel to the face echoed throughout the desolate narrows of downtown Gotham City. It was also followed by a eruption of high-pitched, deviant laughter. These two sounds became the distinguished musical motif of the Narrows. When heard, it was positive that somewhere along its streets, Batman was beating the Joker out of his senses, if any.

The Joker never held any motives anymore. He just thrived off the thrill of seeing Batman's eyes continuously flash with conflict, as he thrashed about with his opponent, knowing he could not -- _would_ not -- finish him off.

Tonight, they were both fighting with a tinge of cautious hesitancy, as it was raining cats and dogs. Both preferred to die with dignity by the other's doing, not foolishly slipping on some wet cement. The Joker was horribly disadvantaged, since God knows how much of Batman's ensemble was water resistant.

Somehow, their endless hurtles for each other through the rain must have guided them straight into Central Gotham City. Neither enjoyed fighting there. For Batman, he was risking the lives of hundreds of innocent Gotham residents, and the Joker was riskily closer to the Gotham City Police District. But neither attempted to guide their little fist-fight out of the area, since they knew of each other's worries, and hoped that it could work to their advantage.

"I _thought_ you were supposed to be saving lives!" the Joker had taunted in a sing song voice, after exploding into another fit of laughter. It was upon shoving Batman onto the busiest road in Gotham, having a car swerve around to avoid colliding with him, but then crashing into a telephone pole. Batman had stood there in dread as the Joker indulged himself in laughter, but then turned to attack him with a monstrous growl once more after he had taunted him.

"Oh, you wanna play bullfighter, do ya?" the Joker quipped, watching in amusement as Batman lunged for him. He waved out an imaginary red flag, representing the bull's target. "_Herrrre_, Batsy Batsy Batsy!"

With every teasing exclamation of his nickname, the Batman animatedly grew more furious and more monstrous by the second. Suddenly, a deer in the headlights expression plastered on his face, and he stopped in his tracks. The Joker raised an eyebrow cryptically. Batman's jaw dropped slightly, hesitating at his words, before bounding to the left side of the road.

"You bailed, Batters!" the Joker goaded, refusing to let his perplexity show. Before he could turn around to see what had startled Batman so, he heard the booming sound of a horn. A _truck_ horn.

Not even allowing time for his features to contort into a reasonable reaction to his situation, the Joker also sprang to one side of the road -- the same side of the road that Batman had fled to. He jumped, drop-rolled onto his backside, just in time to see the colossal truck zoom past, continuing to blare its annoyingly loud horn, and once past, the Joker was met with a nasty gust of wind mixed with rain. His body started to feel itchy as his saturated clothes began to feel uncomfortable.

It wasn't long before he realized that he had landed dangerously close to his bat-winged foe, and of course, the massive pound to the head was inevitable. It sent the Joker flying back onto the now clear roads, that glistened from the wet weather and reflected light from the buildings and shopping boutiques around them.

The Joker laid back on the road, letting himself relax as he could feel no vibrations from the road, meaning no incoming traffic. He let out an incredulous laugh.

_"Well!"_ He giggled some more. "_That_ was pretty darn close, wasn't it! And look at me! This is how I'd appear if I _hadn't_ survived!" Ironically, the Joker laughed at that.

Batman had already risen to his feet and began to advance on the Joker, who was writhing around with hysterical laughter. In the midst of literally rolling around and laughing, the Joker could feel that he had landed on the lid of a manhole. In his hysterics, his constant tossing and turning had wriggled the lid of the manhole out of its rightful place.

The Joker's eyes flew open in realization and his laughing urges vanished. It all happened in slow motion for Batman, as he watched as the Joker's laughter quickly converted into a yelp of surprise, as the Joker's entire anatomy was sent straight down the manhole, backwards, like a slitted victim of Sweeney Todd's. The Batman leaped forward to the manhole; not to catch him, but to watch him fall. When he looked in, his eyes met with nothing but black, but his ears met with the echoing cries of the Joker. He wasn't screaming out of fear, unfortunately, but more from the funny feeling of falling.

"Where'd he go?"

The black-caped crusader glanced over his shoulder to the sound of the familiar authoritative yet concerned voice. There stood Commissioner Gordon, exhaustedly huffing and puffing as if he had ran all the way here. He was confusedly frowning at the bottomless manhole with his hands sternly pressed against his hips, demanding an explanation from someone, as a curious crowd began to gather. The rain was reduced to a light drizzle, and the sounds of the inquisitive crowd loudened.

"Does it matter?" Batman asked, ignoring Gordon's questionable look to his words. Restraining a smirk, Batman pushed the lid of the manhole back into its rightful place, which received many shouts of protest from nosy onlookers who had the camera phones ready. It also received an even more baffled look from Gordon. Batman shrugged, and said only two words which made Gordon realize what may have happened to the Joker, and what Batman tried to represent when he replaced the lid onto the manhole:

"Good riddance."

_TBC..._

* * *

**A/N: **This story spawned after watching TDK and Enchanted simultaneously. Yeeeah. Does things to ya. I don't exactly know where I intend to go with this story, but I had the sudden urge to write this today. I've written part of the next chapter already, so hopefully my muse for this story stays alive. I really shouldn't juggle two stories. _--facepalm-- _My other story is **_Encounter With a Stranger_**. If you read it here on before it was pulled, the link to the new location of the fic is on my profile. Curse you ff dot net. That was my most successful story.

Anyways, I hope y'all keep up with this story. Hopefully I can too... O.O

R&R.


	2. The Wheel of Infinity

**A/N:** An original character in this chapter drops the F-bomb once, and is a bit of a crude character. Just a head's up. ;)

* * *

The last time the Joker had almost fallen to his death, he laughed. Because he had triumphed over Gotham, over Batman...or so he believed at the time.

This time, he screamed. Not out of fear, but out of surprise. With a hint of anger, because if he really was falling to an irreversible _death_, then it would not be in the hands of Batman, which is the only the way he wished to die. If he died now, he would die a not-so-happy camper. Yes, Batman had thrown him onto the road. But the Joker knew just as well that his fall had surprised the Batman just as much as it did to him.

An incredible force suddenly compressed against the Joker's stomach, and the Joker let out a heaving moan of pain. It was as if Batman had punched him in the stomach with all the power equivalent to the impact of an atomic bomb. That enormous pressure against his front, however, had stopped him from falling further. Seemingly relieved, the Joker let out a sigh, surprisingly thankful that he was no longer falling. He let himself collapse and relax against the pressure that was still compressed against his front; for a moment, not caring where he was or what had stopped his fall.

"Name please."

The Joker's head flew up to the sound of a lethargic, nasal voice; as if the owner of that voice had asked the same phrase over and over for a whole lifetime. He saw a midget -- no, a _dwarf_, sitting at a floating yet unwavering office desk, suitable for his size. His clothes represented a typical businessman, with the addition of a typical 1930's journalist's fedora. His bored eyes were lowered to the mess of paperwork and contracts in front of him, and was currently scrawling some notes onto one. The conventional workplace nameplate read _'Maurice'_, and nothing further.

Within his perusal, the Joker didn't register his own staring until the dwarf laced his stubby fingers together in a professional manner, and eyed him severely.

"Name. Please," he repeated in a more pressing tone. Despite his size, his voice epitomized the typical, no-nonsense New York executive.

The Joker opted to argue about his personal handle later, and he blurted out a question as his narrowed eyes skeptically darted around at their colorless surroundings. "Where..._am I?"_

"Nowhere," Maurice answered plainly with a shrug. A sly glint appeared in his eye, as he added, "...yet."

"And uh, what does Mister Dah-_warf_ --" He ignored the vexed narrowing of the Maurice's eyes. "-- imply when he means _'ye-t'?"_

"State your name and I'll tell you," Maurice retorted curtly, smiling bitterly. Maurice was awfully easy to provoke, though the Joker was mildly surprised to see that the dwarf was not at all fazed by his oddities. Although, he did have to take their whereabouts, who he was and why he was here, into consideration. And the Joker once thought _he_ was a freak.

Back to reality, the Joker had to think for a minute, contemplating on whether or not to supply his real name than his current title. He settled on the latter. "The Joker. That's a _capital_ T and a J...H, E, E, R...and you know the res-_t_..._O-K?"_ Rather than throwing his head back and laughing, he face-planted himself on the sphere of pressure that was still present in front of him.

"Mhm," the dwarf rumbled, pretending to write something down. He innocently glanced back up at the Joker. "And your real name?"

"The. Joker." His grin widened when the dwarf dropped his pen and rubbed his temples with frustration.

"Look -- " Maurice peered down at the papers in front of him, before looking back up at the Joker with disdain. "-- _kid, _I have to deal with hundreds of you inept morons everyday since you humans find manholes unusually sexual and thus have the urge to insert yourself into one."

His crude sarcasm amused the Joker, and his smile widened, much to the dwarf's dismay. He ignored it and continued.

"I don't have time for fuckery," Maurice said, though it bordered on a whine. The dwarf pointed his pen at the Joker. "Either tell me your real name or admit that Mr. and Mrs. Joker hated bearing a son so much that they named him _'The'."_

The Joker feigned the most convincing exhibition of heartache and trauma, as he mumbled, gazing off into the distance, "They did _not_..._hate_ me..." Cue the sad puppy pout.

Thankfully, the dwarf seemed to buy it, as his eyes widened and his face fell with guilt. "Oh. Damn, I'm...I'm..." A self-loathing frown etched at his brow and his eyes fixated on the papers in front of him, as he distractedly busied himself. "...well let's continue!" While he continued to avoid the Joker's eyes, the clown indulged himself in a smirk at the dwarf's strife.

Once Maurice finally composed himself, the LCD touch screen plate integrated into the table lit up. It fascinated the Joker, but not the dwarf, as he had pressed the LCD button with his free hand without taking his eyes off the paperwork he was immersed in.

The Joker yelped in surprise when the pressure in front of him suddenly vanished, and just when he began to brace his fall, it didn't happen. He just floated in mid-air; no, he didn't even float, he was just...there. Without the invisible compression, he now had the ability to wave his arms around in front of him, but when he did, he flinched back when a luminous, jazzy spinning wheel fluidly burst into existence, right in front of him -- well, _under_ him.

Before the Joker could even register what it was, as the spinning wheel began to slow, the dwarf spoke, still sounding engrossed with the paperwork.

"Spin the wheel."

Instantly, the Joker casted an incredulous look back at the unconcerned dwarf, suddenly feeling a pang of unfamiliarity, unable to recall the last time _he_ had looked at _someone else_ like that. His curious gaze returned to the wheel, that had finally decelerated its spinning to a satisfactory pace in which the Joker could read what was written on it. The wheel was split up to several triangular sectors; overall there was probably thirty. On each, there was writing, but nothing more than three words. Each was decorated in a different theme; none seemed identical to each other. From the font of the words to the lighting, each sector was different from the rest.

The Joker could not fathom what was happening, or more, what was going to happen. So he joked, with a little less poise than usual. "Am I on _'The Price is Right'_?"

Curious, he peered over at Maurice, just in time to see him answer. He had finished the paperwork and resumed with his business-like pose. "The wheel determines where you are going."

"I'm _going_ somewhere?" The Joker's distasted tone suggested that he was not at all pleased with the situation.

"Spin the wheel!" The dwarf was growing maddeningly impatient again, avoiding the question. His evasion annoyed the Joker.

"I don't _wan-t..._to go anywhere." The Joker stubbornly said, his eyes lighting up with maliciousness. He continued in a slightly cooler tone. "Just send me back up the way I came, no big deal. Plus, my buddy is waitin' for me." His expression suddenly read dramatic anxiety. "Can you _imagine_ him up there? Helping civilians and telling them that it's gonna be okay, when it _is?_ Knowing that _I'll_ never come back to disturb the streets of _Gotham?!"_ His tone had unknowingly grown louder and more monstrous by each word.

Still, the dwarf seemed unperturbed. "Mister Joker, spin the wheel now or I'll banish you to a life as a strand of pubic hair on Satan's balls." His monotonous tone deemed that he was dead serious. "I've been told that it's worse than dying and going to Hell."

His threats didn't scare the Joker, but he obliged and spun the wheel, only because the of lack of desired responses from the dwarf was starting to irk him. He didn't know exactly what was going to happen to him when he is 'sent' somewhere, but the Joker hoped that wherever that may be, there will be fresh minds to corrupt.

The Joker's eyes glazed over, uninterested in the vivacious, flashing lights, and the dreaded merry music that accompanied it. As the spinning slowed, so did the music, until the wheel finally stopped with a metallic 'Ping!'.

Maurice leaned over his desk, squinting at the glaring light emitted from the wheel, as he tried to read whichever sector it had stopped on. "Aurenbelle." The Joker glanced over at the dwarf for an explanation. Maurice was already scribbling something else in the paperwork, as he colorlessly murmured, "Hooray for you."

Never in his twenty to thirty odd years of life had he come across this...city? Town? Village? "And that is..._where_, exactly?" he asked.

"In Aurenbelle." Maurice was still immersed in the paperwork.

"Where's that?" the Joker asked again, both out of curiosity and with the hopes to provoke him.

"In Aurenbelle."

"Where's that?"

The Joker grinned when the dwarf stamped the paper a lot harder than it needed. Maurice casted him a scathing glare. "Up your ass! Now shut up, I need to find the coordinates of Aurenbelle."

As Maurice dialed in a number the telephone, the Joker smirked in amusement as the dwarf continued to mutter expletives under this breath. "So uh, you do this _all day long_, huh?" the Joker harassed, deliciously filling in the slight silence that was barely occupied by Maurice's impatient drumming of his fingers on the table.

"Shut up," the dwarf hushed begrudgingly, prodding the Speaker button.

An angry British voice suddenly ruptured from the tiny speaker. "What the _hell_ did you say to me?"

"Oh!" Maurice's eyes flew open in alarm, and leaned into the telephone after inclining back in his chair, expecting a long delay. "No, not you, Irving! Just some S.O.B. whose making my job a living Hell." He cast a chagrined scowl over to the Joker, but overlooked his complacent grin in response.

"Ah, one of _those_ people," came 'Irving's' reply, followed by a faint chuckle.

"Fax me the coordinates for Aurenbelle, would ya?"

_"Aurenbelle?"_ The Joker had to admit; Irving's disbelieving tone bothered him, followed by his snort of laughter. "Mister Crackpot's gonna _love_ it there!" His tone dripped with sarcasm, and it was followed by more laughter and the sounds of computer keys being tapped away.

"Why am I gonna love it there?" the Joker asked immediately, cursing the neurotic tone that crept into his voice. He jumped when a fax machine popped into existence on the dwarf's right, and Maurice plucked the piece of paper that had just completed printing.

"Got it?" Irving's voice returned, confirming whether or not the fax was successful or not.

"Got it, Irv. Thanks," the dwarf replied with a remote smile, immersed in the content of the faxed piece of paper.

"Why am I gonna love it in Aurenbelle?" the Joker hassled, his eyes snared to every movement the dwarf made, as if somehow he would find the answer to his question.

"Port-key number nine is already to go, Mister Joker," Maurice informed a little too eagerly. He rolled up all the paperwork he had been busied with and tucked it into some sort of glass postage cylinder. He fiddled with something undisclosed under the table.

"Why am I gonna --" The Joker halted at his words when Maurice pointed a strange looking gun at him. The gun's magazine was the glass cylinder full of paperwork that held all the Joker's information. Despite the bizarre uniqueness of a somewhat recognized scenario, the Joker narrowed his eyes into challenging slits as a snide smirk peeked the corner of his lips. He spoke, his voice was low. "You wouldn't da--" Maurice fired. "Oww!"

The Joker glanced down to see that the paperwork had shot out and pinned onto his clothes, yet somehow avoiding to pierce his flesh. He seemed thoroughly nettled by how everything that was happening seemed to out-bizarre him. "What is _this?"_

Maurice's eyes flashed irritably when the Joker attempted to tug it off. "Rip it off and your fingers go with it," he said cuttingly.

Surprisingly, he obliged. He folded his arms with an annoyed frown and continued to harass the dwarf. _"Why_ am _I_ gonna love it in Aurenbelle?"

An impish grin spread across Maurice's face, as a lever appeared out of the desk, and he wickedly clawed his fingers on the knob. "Have fun in Aurenbelle, Mister Joker!"

The Joker tried one last attempt. "Why am I gonna love it in Auren--" Maurice wrenched back the lever and the clown began to plummet. _"--BELLLLLLLLE!!"_

He wanted an answer, so he refused to look away from the dwarf. The image of Maurice and his desk grew smaller and smaller, but even from their distance that was only extending by the second, he saw the dwarf lean over the desk and shout a very vague answer to the Joker's question:

"Hope you like _Broadway!"_

* * *

**A/N:** Hihi. Let me know if I bored you to death with this chapter (due to the length) and I'll try to fix it in the future. I've got some ideas in mind with the future of the story, but I'm struggling with how I'm going to fit the Joker into all of it. The Joker is such a complex character, and to fit him in with this concept? _--brain explodes--_

If you guys have any suggestions or ideas regarding how the Joker would react to, well, everything, or if his views of life would change, puh-_lease_ tell me, cos I am virtually stumped. The only thing I got is the assumption that the Joker would take in the new world in shock, and like Giselle in 'Enchanted', continue to act the way he does but not receiving the 'effect' he is used to -- which pretty much means he'll continue to act the way he does (after overcoming his shock, and I'm not sure how long that'd be; Giselle got over it pretty fast) but the people of 'Aurenbelle' won't react in the way that he is used to. Hmmm. Idea, ideas.

One thing's for sure: there _will_ be singing.

R&R!


	3. A Whole New World

**A/N: **Mmkay, I am sooooo sorry for not updating in a while. I have a lot of ideas for this fic, but they are for later, so I have to work myself to those points. Hopefully the writing isn't crap. I'm juggling three fics at the moment, whut the hayle is wrong with me. Anyways.

A hot question from you all: Will the Joker be singing? Answer; highly unlikely. But, there may be a chance that he may accidentally walk right into one, and his normal verbal communication will unknowingly be involved in the song while everyone else sings their golly guts out. But ya know, in the Disney world, the best way to express oneself is through song and we all know the Joker will be feeling all kinds of weird emotions...maybe some time later in the story when the Joker is more settled in the new world..._buuuut_ I still doubt it. I still don't know where I'm taking this story LOL. But trust, don't expect the Joker to be walking around lost at night and belting out a melodramatic monologue in song. O.o

Trust him to be highly, highly, highly disturbed by it all though. xD

Though I don't write my own music. I'm terrible at it, trust me. SO, what I'm planning to do is take -- I-I mean _borrow_ songs from Disney movies (and some other musicals) and rearrange the lyrics. I have a friend who can help me with that; she warped the Willy Wonka song so bad...haha...

So hopefully you've heard all the Disney songs -- if not, YouTube is your friend.

* * *

The feeling of falling was like losing one's stomach; as one would continue to yield to the force of gravity, the stomach would linger tolerantly behind in nothingness. Some loathed the feeling; the peculiar emptiness within their abdomen, and have it feel as if your insides had adjusted position to compensate for the vacant space. The Joker, however, loved it. It tickled him! All the way down he laughed, and when he felt the reverberations from his own laughter pulsate throughout his body, he laughed harder.

The Joker's laughter died out on a note of disappointment when he sensed himself falling slower, and slower. His body twisted and turned until he was falling in an upright stance. He wasn't falling anymore; he was descending at a snail's pace. Rather, he seemed to _float_ all the way down until his feet met the glossy, black ground.

The delight of the fall was already forgotten as he snapped back into 'reality'. Perplexity filled him rather than relief, not knowing how to react to, well, all of it. Much to his chagrin, everything he did now seemed to propose only one option for him. The Joker was shrewd enough to know that he could not spark chaos and anarchy in this ... one-way void, and there was nothing to rebel against.

A dark plum door with a metallic gold handle was situated before him. The '9' plate that was fastened to the door informed the Joker that this was, without doubt, the 'Portkey No.9' that the dwarf had directed him to. The Joker cast a quick glance around himself, assuring himself that this was the only possible course of action he had.

"Aurennn-_somethin'_," he sighed defeatedly with an annoyed quirk of his brow. He reposed his hand on the divinely gold handle as he braced himself for the unexpected. "Meet 'The _Joker.'"_

The Joker squeezed the handle with a rubbery squeak of his gloves, turned it ... but the door didn't budge. It was ... locked? This _was_ Portkey No.9, wasn't it? A throaty growl escaped him as he harshly struggled with the handle. His body suddenly went taut when --

"What the --"

Gravity shifted. The force of gravity suddenly pulled the Joker forward -- no, _down_ towards the door he had been facing. Shaking the metaphorical stars out of his face, he eyed the door under him suspiciously as if it were guilty of taunting him. The Joker was about to deliver a smart-alecky response to no one, when the door swung open, sending the Joker plummeting to the unknown once again.

"Oof!" The Joker realized he wasn't _falling;_ he was sliding down a confined, metal sheeted tunnel on his stomach.

Laughter instinctively generated from him and echoed within the tunnel as he found it overtly bizarre, amusing and downright _fun!_ His echoing laughter only intensified every time his face smashed against every corner where the tunnel had a sharp arch or bend. His stomach ached, as if he were literally splitting his sides. The Joker opened his eyes within his hysterics, and realized that he was rapidly heading for a door of a vault.

There was one last steep slope he had to conquer before he would collide with it. Of course, the Joker enjoyed it immensely, despite it resulting in an increase in speed at which he was sliding. He was sliding towards the vault door, and fast.

"Hit meh!" the Joker jested, before cracking up once more. If he was at all tense before, he certainly wasn't now, as he prepared for the deliciously painful impact.

A split second before he could plow into the inviting steely feel of the vault door, it swung open. The blinding light of the sun burned his eyes, as the shape of the sun perfectly shone through the circle of the open door's expanse. The sudden sunlight shocked his eyes, and he reflexively squeezed them shut. Just as he did that, he could feel himself cleanly glide out of the window, and tumbled into a messy heap on a quilt of grass with an _"Oof!"_.

The Joker let out a gravelly groan as he rolled onto his back; all that falling and all that laughing had really suck the life out of him. His eyes remained closed as he laid there, peacefully and undisturbed; his chest heaved as he lingered within the blankets of grass to recover his energy. He grinned widely all of a sudden; it compensated for the laughter he could not yet emit as his stamina was still low.

A pleasant breeze licked his skin and withered the beads of sweat that had formed at his brow. His grin morphed from something that found joy in something morbid, to a small smile that appreciated the moments of tranquility.

_Tranquility?_

His brows puckered in suspicion, but had yet to open his eyes. It was far too peaceful, too serene, too perfect for the moment to be ... _real._

He opened his eyes. The sky seemed too blue, too cloudless and too vibrant to be ... _real._

He inclined his head at the slightest angle. What his eyes met with made him jolt up in an unnaturally upright sitting position. Now he _knew_ this couldn't be real. As he slowly rose to his feet, he took in his surroundings with a hybrid of aversion and speechlessness.

The grass was too green; so green that distinguishing each individual blade from the other was impossible, and the ground was smothered with it in abundance. The grass hugged the sturdy roots of the trees, which were plastered with pure brown bark with little to no texture from where he could see. The leaves of the trees were just like the grass on the ground; the distinctiveness was unfathomable, it was a like a solid green mass on a stick of chocolate. And it was _everywhere. _It was as if his surroundings were ... animated.

The Joker spun around to see where he had just come from. Behind him, was a cliff, that stretched on both horizontally and vertically farther than the eye could see. It too, had little to no texture, with the exception of the shades casted by more jagged edges and chunks. The cliff looked like it was painted on, as the vertical brush strokes hinted colors of gray, black, white, mahogany and scarlet; the colors of clay and earth.

Far up high, he saw the circular vault left wide open; where he had just fallen out of. He briefly wondered how he had such an effortless, quick fall from such a great height. He was startled out of his thoughts when the vault door slammed shut just as quickly as he had noticed it there. As if the sudden gesture had told him to focus, he then spun back around to face the gallery of trees exhibited before him.

The Joker felt a little silly; it was as if he was being appraised by trees. He laughed out loud at his thoughts, but it sounded a lot more nervous than he had expected. He pressed his hands against his hips in determination, and twisted at his feet to assess his surroundings.

"Well if _this_ isn't all shades of screwed up," he murmured under his breath in an amused tone, frowning enigmatically. He scowled questioningly at each tree, as if expecting one of them to break their silence and talk, to explain the situation.

As if the whole forest sensed his silent quest for answers, they granted him a recognizable sound.

His frown vanished and his ears perked when he heard the rapid, rushing flow of a nearby river. A small one, a river that would properly fit the setting; not a vast, essentially unmoving river like Gotham River. Instinctively, he found himself drawn to the sound, seeking out its whereabouts as it had been obscured by the gallery of trees. It didn't take him long to stumble upon it, as it had been shrouded by only a few trees.

It was a narrow brook, adorned with silvery stones and pebbles with water lilies caught in between the confined spaces. The trees seem to favorably part just enough for the sunlight to hit the river at all the right places, to make it look like a river of liquid diamonds.

It was straight out of a fantasy novel. Or a Disney animation.

Normally, it was a pointless yet reflexive thing that people do when a river is accessible. Normally, the Joker was not normal. This was not a normal situation, which is why he found himself drawing nearer to the river, crouching down at its perimeter, and leaning into it.

What he saw astounded even him, and he froze.

Just as his surroundings were, his features were outlined with black. His war paint remained white and cracked, but lacked the impression of virtually any texture at all. It was just white, or his cream-colored skin. The zone around his eyes remained blackened as usual, minus a lot of the chaotic streaks and smears. Although his eyes were naturally brown, what baffled him (further) was that in his reflection, they were black. Solid black, with a fleck of white that resembled the reflection of light. His bafflement transformed into delight; he liked it.

His grin faltered as soon as he noticed everything else. His scars weren't as frightening as they were before; he had brought a new meaning to 'crooked smile'. His thin lips were represented simply by a jagged black line, highlighted in red.

And his hair. It was just a green mess on his head; untextured and defined only at the tails of each curl. A hand unconsciously flew up to grab a fistful -- it _felt_ the same. It just didn't _look_ the same.

"What the Heck Tate..." the Joker mumbled; he intended to shout, but he was convinced that ninety percent of him had paralyzed with shock. He took a step back while in the crouched position, with the intention of slowly rising to his feet, but he was so disorientated that he stumbled back and pathetically fell on his backside.

He was also disorientated by the fact that _he_ was disorientated -- he was the Joker! He wasn't supposed to be disorientated by anything!

The Joker suddenly blinked out of his reverie, and glanced down at himself; the papers were still attached to the lapels of his overcoat (after noting how ridiculously purple and green his clothes were). Instead of tearing them off and chucking it into the river, he held the first piece of paper up to his face to read it. It was upside down, but he could decipher the last few sentences (meaning the first few sentences, had it been turned the right way up).

**_Title:_** Mister

**_Given Name:_** Joker, The

**_Age:_** 28

**_Birthplace:_** Gotham, USA

**_Place of Residence:_** Gotham City; coordinates or address undisclosed

Beside_ 'Occupation',_ dear Maurice had written 'unemployed', scribbled it out, and wrote 'royal pain in my ass', before scribbling that out once more and writing 'unemployed' again. The Joker laughed out loud, his bewilderment briefly forgotten; Maurice probably needed to uphold a model of professionalism. What he wrote under _'Sexual Orientation'_ made the Joker laugh even harder; he had written 'the clothes say womanizer but the colors say flaming fag', before crossing it out and scrawling, 'ambiguous'.

With the palm of his gloved hand, the Joker swabbed his eyes which had watered from all his joyous laughter. He thought with some nostalgia; _I'm gonna miss that snooty little dwarf._

"Ha!" the Joker suddenly laughed out loud at his own musings. "Why bother calling him little? He's a _dwarf!"_

He threw his head back once more and let out a final burst of laughter, before he rose to his feet. Reality dawned on him again when his laughter died, much to his dismay. The Joker sighed defeatedly, he pressed his hands against his hips and disapprovingly eyed the outrageously green forest around him and the outrageously cloudless, blue sky lingering up above. Not to mention the jolly little sun that was virtually grinning at his presence.

The Joker felt his stomach churn; he missed Gotham already. The only people he would outrage if he resorted to blowing up nature is Greenpeace and other tree-huggers alike. _Bo-ring._ He did, however, fleetingly wonder what an exploding cartoon tree would look like.

And he was a city boy. The notion of him living in the country revolted him. The isolation, the lack of attention, the bizarre stillness -- not the mention hay fever. Yes, of all people, the Joker had hay fever. He didn't like people knowing.

The Joker glanced at himself once again in the water, and his cartoon self stared just as glumly as he was back to him. He never realized how angular his face was, or how wild his hair was. He reached up to his face and felt his chin, while another hand grabbed a fistful of his hair -- he still felt real. He could still feel every individual strand of hair against his fingers, or the sandy grime that caked his features.

He realized that he was frowning cryptically at himself, and instantly shot upright. Staring at himself wasn't going to get him answers. Surely there were humans around here; 'Aurenbelle' did not sound like a very primitive region. He couldn't just stand there anymore. The Joker looked at himself once more, silently asking himself of what the hell was going on, and trailed the course of the flowing water as it descended downhill.

The Joker, hesitated for a moment, looking up to the sky as he heard a voice. Two voices. Singing. A duet.

"...true -- love's -- _kiiiiiiiiss!"_

He blinked. And then he laughed at himself, continuing his journey downhill, wondering how much more bizarre his imagination could become.

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**A/N: **Yes, the Joker just heard the end of Giselle and Prince Edward's duet they had in Enchanted. ;) R&R!


	4. An Animated Greeting

**A/N: **I really, really do not like this chapter. I look at it, and I am not proud of it at all. KayosHybrid would know that this particular chapter has been causing me some distress. So I'm posting it now, just to get it over and done with. Half the chapter was cut, and I assume will be put in the next ... IDEK, lol. We'll see what happens. You have no idea how difficult it is to write the Joker in THIS universe.

* * *

The Joker's gaze never parted from his reflection as he descended downhill. Only did he make quick glances at the journey before him, in caution of any prospect of walking into anything. Other than that, his eyes remained fixated on the rippling reflection of his cartoon self. A part of himself wanted so badly to believe that it was all a horribly warped, vivid dream, and that he would soon wake with a massive hang-over or the mouthpiece of a bong hanging from his lips. But he knew reality from fantasy -- well, dreams; this would never, ever, _ever_ be his fantasy.

He made faces at his own reflection, to see how he looked. If he weren't so flabbergasted by the whole ordeal, he would have laughed at the silliness of his actions.

Suddenly, a red ball splashed into the face of his reflection, and he blinked startlingly out of his theatrics. The Joker crouched down, picked it up, and studied it like a foreign species. He heard a rustling within the trees, and the Joker's head whipped up. He saw two little boys swathed in peasant clothes scurrying towards him with big eager grins, as if they were keen on making a new friend. The Joker grimaced instantly and rose to his feet; red ball still in hands.

To his horror, they were animated as well -- _everything_ was animated. This was _not_ a good sign.

"Morning, Mister!" said the ebony-haired boy with bright blue eyes that nauseatingly glittered with boyish purity. His accent was American, so the Joker was slightly reassured that he was still, in a way, in the same country.

"May we have our ball back please?" asked the copper-haired boy with galaxy of freckles. This one had a British accent. If the Joker wasn't so baffled about his uncertain whereabouts, he would have laughed at how strongly this boy resembled the Weasley kid from Harry Potter. Their wide, expectant eyes twinkled with innocence, as they composedly anticipated his reply. The Joker forced a toothy grin at them, knowing just how discomforting he appeared when he did, as he teasingly tossed the ball between his hands.

"Of course," he replied coolly, deliberately failing to acknowledge the uneasy swapping of glances between the two boys. Their eyes lit up when the Joker invitingly held the ball out to them. Both boys reached forward for it, but their joyful beams fell when the Joker pulled the ball out of reach. Upon seeing their faces of perplexity, the Joker added, _"If_ you answer my three questions."

The antsy boys swapped glances, and their eyes dimmed with worry. The Joker's wicked grin only widened at the gesture. The ebony-haired boy apprehensively mumbled, "Well..."

"It'll be done in a jiffy, promise!" the Joker quickly added innocently, feigning an expression of only mild bewilderment at their distrust when they looked up at him meekly. His eyes narrowed severely, and asked, in a slightly more sinister tone. "Don't you want your ball back?"

Again, the boys swapped glances, silently contemplating. The spitting image of Ron Weasley shrugged with timid nod. "I suppose."

As a sign of appreciation, the Joker flashed his yellowed fangs at the boys, which only unnerved them further. "First question: _where am I?" _He didn't mean to ask it as menacing as he had let out.

His tone didn't seem to perturb the boys, as they both chorused the answer in unison, and with pride: "Aurenbelle!"

"Your precious ball is on the line, kids," the Joker deadpanned, dissatisfied with the lack of a detailed answer, and the boys' spirits clearly sank. No longer bothering to hide his irritation, the Joker ordered, "Be more specifi_-c."_

The black-haired boy obliged, but with a lot less zest. "Aurenbelle, Disneyland. Our sister city is Andalasia."

The Joker had stopped listening at 'Disneyland'. His eyes flew open in alarm and he sneered in horror. _"Disneyland?_ I'm in goddamn _Disneyland?"_

A gasp of horror emitted from both the boys in synchronization. The red head uttered, in sheer shock, "Sir! You must _not_ use the Lord's name in vain!"

"Oh, _do_ pardon me," the Joker sighed sarcastically, though the boys seemed satisfied enough with it as they failed to detect his mockery. "Question two: why am I _animated?"_

"Animated?" They both tilted their heads cluelessly in unison.

"A _cartoon!_ Why am I a _cartoon?"_ the Joker flailed his arms in the air; a futile attempt to explain his dilemmas in a better way. It was no use. It was like trying to talk to these boys in a foreign language. "Why do I, the Joker, look so utterly -- " His brow strained in search for the perfect word, "-- ffflawless? But feel ... the same?"

"We don't know what you're talking about, sir," said the British one, though the Joker wasn't really paying attention to them anymore. His eyes were squeezed tight, one hand pinching his brow stressfully while the other pressed up against his hip.

"Of course not," he sighed with a slight sneer in his voice. "I'm in Disneyland. This is real to you folks." He dropped his hands and his eyes lit up at his words. "Oh wait, I shouldn't say 'folks' -- that's Warner Bros, am I right?"

"Umm -- " Both boys looked stumped. The Joker thought he heard the tap of a xylophone as the two boys blinked in puzzlement.

"That wasn't ... a question," the Joker deadpanned, glaring tiredly at the two children.

"Oh," said one sheepishly.

"Do you have another question, sir?" the other kid asked -- the American one -- in a voice laced with more impatience that courtesy. "We'd really like our ball back."

"Yeah, yeah, I'm thinkin'," the Joker flourished a hand in their direction offhandedly, assuring them that he knew that already. It was becoming difficult to deliberate as his curiosity began to morph into frustration at the lack of explicit insight. He sighed, closing his eyes, hoping it would help him think better. "Gosh, give the new guy a break..."

"New guy?"

His eyes opened at their astonished tone, and his frustration vanished and was replaced with curiosity. He eyed them both inquisitively, though emphasized his expression of confusion at the red haired youth who stared at him with a hybrid of stupefaction and _(regrettably)_ hysterical joy.

"Toby, look!" The red head slapped 'Toby's' arm and pointed at the papers pinned to the Joker's chest. Normally, the Joker liked being the center of attention, but the disgusting look of glee on the boy's face tormented him.

"What?" came the Joker's demand, in a small voice. He almost backed away from the two boys when Toby's eyes widened just as the red head's did earlier.

"You're new!" Toby exclaimed in awe.

"He's new!" The red head followed suit.

The Joker eyebrows puckered confusedly. "Who's new?"

"He's new!"

"I'm _new?"_ The Joker blinked in surprise; that dialog seemed awfully ... rhythmical. Almost, _musical._

Before he knew it, Toby was screaming in a voice that was far too big for a child of his size.

"IT'S HIM, EVERYONE! IT'S HIM! THE NEW GUY! IT'S THE GUEST WE'VE ALL BEEN WAITING FOR!"

The Joker's eyes flew open in alarm, suspecting that his exclamations were directed to the entire town. Normally, the Joker loved attention. But from the keen, merry glints in their eyes, the attention he could potentially garner would be for all the wrong reasons. Panicking, he leaned down to both of the boys and fluttered his hands for them to stop.

"He--hey, _shhhh!"_ he whispered in a desperate tone, with wide-eyed hysteria. The pair of boys continued to grin gaily, though their eyes questioned him when he eyed them severely. "Do you want your ball back or not?"

The Joker's heart (if any) sank when the red head answered with great enthusiasm. "Who cares about a silly little ball, when we've finally got you!" The Joker opened his mouth to protest in his menacing tone, hoping a different approach would work, when both boys spun around and shouted in a voice, louder than the Joker could ever possibly manage, that startled even him: "OUR GUEST HAS ARRIVED!"

Out of nowhere, the shrill chorus of some sort of Gospel choir sounded. And music began to play, also out of nowhere. The Joker's eyes widened in realization; he was in a Disney universe -- animated universe, which meant --

His face fell as he groaned, clawing his face with his palms. "Ugh, you're not gonna sing are y--"

_(to the tune of "A Star is Born" from Disney's Hercules)_

_"Gonna celebrate til half past nine, 'cause..._" sang a woman's voice.

_"Our guest is here!"_ he heard a large group of people chorus.

The Joker slipped his hands, just enough to see that he was no longer in the forest. Upon realizing this, he dropped his hands completely and saw that he had somehow magically appeared in the middle of a dirt road within a peasant village. And that 'large group of chorusing people' were actually members of this community. It seems as if everyone had halted from their own matters to turn and face him to greet him -- in other words, sing.

The Joker amusingly resembled someone who had just seen an entire village sprout a second head.

As quickly as he had noticed all this, the next line of lyrics was sung.

_"We've been waiting for a whole lifetime!_" sang another random woman, sweeping the sidewalks with a broom.

_"Our guest is here!"_

The Joker opened his mouth to dismiss their undesired song when childlike hands took hold of his. However small, the two children he had just met managed to pull him along as they skipped merrily to the beat of the song, as the growing crowd of villagers followed in suit. Well, the Joker more tripped on his feet as they all skipped.

_"C'mon mister tell us what's your name,  
because you're here to stay,  
so steer clear!  
And let's all cheer!"_

He's had quite enough of this! The Joker wrenched his hands back gruffly, as his vexation began to surface. He spun around at his heel, preparing to make a dash to escape...

...when he came face to face with the _entire_ town. They sang the lyrics in unison.

_"Our guest is here!"_

Hoo-boy. Maurice's words rang through his head.

_'Hope you like Broadway!'_

The Joker now understood what that little twerp meant.

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R&R.


	5. Our Guest is Here!

**A/N:** School started today. I thought I'd post this before I get swamped by schoolwork; major DNW. Thanks for all your reviews, guys -- unpoisoned apples for all!

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"Y'know, it's fine, I could _really_ do without the singing."

The Joker's attempts were futile, but he knew that from the moment the words left his lips. It's not that he didn't know what to say exactly; he had a lot of things to share with the crowd, in fact! It's just that he could barely hear himself over that damn singing.

A golden carriage grew out of obscurity as the horrid swarm of pink-cheeked, singing civilians with pageant smiles parted to form a path for him. It was escorted by glorious, pure white steeds, and the carriage sparkled shockingly in the sunlight. All signs pointed to the fact that it was meant for him. How they had prepared it for him so quickly was beyond him.

But the Joker didn't want the carriage; he knew that the journey to it meant enduring more singing, and wherever that carriage led to probably escorted him to even _more_ singing. He just wanted to get the hell out of there, wherever _there _was. He took a tentative step back, only to collide with the same horde of people that had guided him in this direction in the first place.

"I--I--okay."

Paralyzed by stun, he submissively allowed that horde to steer him down the path, as he was sure the only other option was to be trampled over -- though, that option was becoming more and more appealing. They sung, as the Joker numbly teetered down the path, fleetingly taking in (with great bewilderment) all the faces that filled with joy at the mere sight of him. They showered him with attention as he found that the journey to the carriage seemed longer than he had initially presumed.

_(cont. "A Star is Born" tune from Disney's Hercules)_

_"Everybody standing in the crowd  
Our guest is here!  
Make him welcome and cheer aloud  
Our guest is here!  
Sir get ready for the biggest night!  
The biggest night of your life!  
'cause sir, you're new  
We welcome you!  
So if you've fro-zen up with fear,  
give us a chance, we'll make you dance!  
So long have we waited  
Finally you have made it  
Everyone our guest is here!_

_'Go to your happy place,' _he chanted intensely in his mind, as his eye twitched with suppressed aggravation. _'Go to your happy place -- blind babies, AIDS, seriously injured doctors, geniuses with brain damage, landmines, brunch, sombreros, sombreros, sombreros --!'_

_Like a peacock in the sandy dunes  
Our guest is here!  
Mister, chill out, cos you'll fit in soon  
Our guest is here!  
Just remember that you're our own guest  
Don't even try to protest  
Just let us do  
The best debut_

With every step he took, the carriage became more and more inviting. Being inside meant being hidden, and hopefully there was a nice, little shaded corner he could call his own. The Joker began to walk faster; he tried to run for it, but still being shocked senseless by his situation, he rather looked like a toddler suddenly learning how to run. Of course, that meant stumbling too. He reached out for the carriage to avert his fall, strong hands grabbed both his arms, catching him before his nose could plow into the ground. As if on cue, they sung, as they assisted him into the carriage, which the Joker surprisingly allowed without protest:

_You need a hand? Help's always near!  
So rest those feet  
Sir, it's our treat  
Make way for our guest is here!_

At last! He was inside!

Unfortunately, he could still hear them, and see the vivid, clear blue sky through the small apertures of the carriage. He noticed it before ... before ... things became very blurry. The Joker knew what was happening to him, and he glared forward, in an attempt to rebel against his body's own reaction to his sticky situation. This couldn't be happening now -- how _embarrassing_ -- and as hard as he resisted, he couldn't fight the feeling of dizziness that was rapidly submerging him ... he felt very lightheaded ... he felt ... he fellltt ... he _feeelllltt-t-t..._

_Everybody standing in the crowd  
Our guest is here!  
Make him welcome and cheer aloud  
Our guest is here!  
Sir get ready for the biggest night  
The biggest night of your life  
'cause sir, you're new  
We welcome you  
So if you've fro-zen up with fear  
Give us a chance, we'll make you dance  
So long have we waited  
Finally you have made it  
Everyone our guest is here!"_

A trumpet sounded as the dazzling, golden carriage pulled to a halt. The welcome number had been long finished but the earnest crowd, buzzing with excitement, had followed the carriage all the way to the embellished, silver gates of Aurenbelle's ivory estate, dwellings of the beloved royal family. The odd man confined within the carriage was not being delivered to the royal family, but they must be well-informed of his arrival. Who could miss that brilliant, gold carriage that looked as if it were made only for the Gods?

They had stopped there because they wanted their guest to have the best and most expansive view of the entire kingdom of Aurenbelle, and that was from the royal castle.

As the trumpet concluded its musical proclamation, and had garnered the attention of almost all the city slickers of Aurenbelle, the portly compère with a walrus-like mustache stepped forward. In his hand, he held the papers he had snatched from the lapels of the Joker's coat (unbeknownst to him), and began to hail in a voice that clearly had enough training to be carried over the entire city:

"Loyal subjects of Aurenbelle! The day has finally come, of the long-awaited arrival of our Guest!"

There was a collective cheer from the grinning crowd, some sounding later than others as if it hadn't registered as quickly.

"I shall say this now, and only now, for I know that it be only once that the following of which I will say need only be needing once of saying as I know you all know that I know that this requires saying only once."

There was a brief swapping of bemused glances, before the compère held out the papers in front of him, in preparation to read, and announced, in an even louder voice:

"Respect our guest!" He paused dramatically, ensuring that this sinks in. "And treat him with the utmost kindness! Disorientation is greatly expected of him, so I beg you all to be patient with him. And now --"

The crowd bubbled fiercely with excitement.

"--I present to you, Mister --" He glanced down at the papers. His eyes flew open at his name. "...Mi--mister ... mister ... _Joker?"_

The faces of the crowd fell in confusion, some looked around as if they were expecting a certain someone to protest. When none came, the compère shook his head out of his befuddlement, and repeated on a more confident level:

"Mister _Joker!_ I present to you, Mister Joker!"

He marched aside from the carriage's threshold, and all confusion had vanished as the red carpet was neatly rolled out at once, and elation charged through them as a whole once again. A pencil-thin valet, who looked as if he had gained great height with what he had lost in weight, swiftly stepped forward towards the door, and swung it open.

There was a collective gasp of surprise when the Joker gracelessly tumbled out, as if he had been leaning against the door the entire time.

The Joker faceplanted into the ground, and didn't move. There were worried murmurs, confused murmurs, and the sounds of children's laughter. Royal servants rushed over to help him up, but he still wasn't moving. The servants whispered random things with the hope that he would wake up, and prodded certain places with the hope to get a reaction out of him. He had a pulse, that was for sure. The skinny servant glanced up the compère, who watched with a hybrid of confusion on curiosity. His eyes questioned the skinny servant.

"He has fainted, sir."

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R&R, y/y?


	6. Sleeping Beauty

**A/N:** I don't like this chapter, I don't, I don't, I don't! School's stressing me out, the heat over here is intolerable, I just wanna get this chapter away.

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"It's the most powerful thing in the world ... world ... _world..."_

A lone voice echoed, generating a throbbing pain at his temple.

_What a godawful dream ... nightmare, really,_ the Joker brooded, beholden that he had finally roused from a rather distressing slumber.

He didn't recognize the voice, as it belonged to a woman. There were no women in his mob, were there? But at the mere mention of a 'powerful thing', the Joker immediately assumed that this woman was in possession of a remarkable firearm -- in other words, she was of some advantage to the Joker.

Delighted by the thought, he decided to indulge himself in a few more minutes of shut-eye.

Though, within his dopey state, he heard only three words that woke him up completely and banished all conclusions that said he was in the real world.

Three _sung_ words.

_"True ... love's ... kissss."_

The Joker's eyes teared open and he shot up into a sitting position in a flash. "Nonono -- I'm awake! I'm awake!"

Three things were noticed instantly. One, the Joker was in a barn; the walls were barricaded with shambolic bundles of hay. Two, there was a buzzing queue of young women at the vast opening, that spilled sunlight into the garner. Three, and the worst realization of all, everything was _still_ a cartoon.

"Awww," an entire line of damsels chorused in disappointment upon his awakening; they dropped their gazes and trudged away dejectedly.

The Joker watched the five -- no, ten -- no, _twenty_ beautiful young ladies, clad in their corset gowns, retire from the stable with their heads hanging low. Did all these women want to _be_ with him? His eyes widened with horror, realizing that they thought of him to be their 'true love'. The Joker grimaced inwardly at the likelihood.

The portly fellow in generously cut overalls appeared beside him, most likely the owner of the farm. He must have mistaken his horrified gape as something that seemed only stunned by the turn-out, rather than the mere possibility of tying the knot with one of them, when he said:

"I imagine you are puzzled over why so many fair maidens seek to arouse you," the man chuckled with amusement, in a British accent. The Joker still stared forward until the last girl was out of sight; that was when he took notice of the man's words.

"Yeah, I'll bet," the Joker sneered, thinking of a different definition to 'arouse'.

"Well, Mister --" The man's abrupt pause drew the Joker's gaze up to him; he instantly noticed, with amusement, his ridiculous Walrus mustache. It was probably a popular fashion trend for men around here.

He was frowning bewilderedly at the stack of papers that he held in his hand, as if he had just read something hard to swallow. The Joker was suddenly paranoid, and his eyes darted to and from the man's worrying gaze to the papers in his hand. " -- uhm..."

"What?" the Joker uttered, in a small voice that he didn't know he had. The farmer suddenly blinked out of his expression of disbelief, and then smiled apologetically at the Joker, as if whatever had shocked him may have been seen as an insult to the Joker.

"Mister ..._ 'Joker'_ sir --" He seemed oddly uncomfortable with calling him that; the Joker narrowed his eyes with reservation. "-- you see, you bear remarkable resemblance to the royal family's court jester."

_"So?"_ It bitterly fell out of the Joker's mouth before he could think. He was already being compared to another individual? That was the greatest insult to the Joker; he wanted to be one of a kind, a maverick of sorts.

The farmer flinched at his bitter snap. "Uh, well, his professional sobriquet is 'Squillers' --" At this, the Joker grimaced and mouthed _'What?'._ "-- but his real name is Heathcliff." _Of Wuthering Heights,_ the Joker silently noted with nausea. "He takes the town's title as Aurenbelle's Funniest Villager, but also Aurenbelle's Most Sought After Bachelor. So you see --"

The Joker had stopped listening at 'Funniest Villager'. "And I bear resemblance to him, _how?"_ he asked in a snide tone.

"Well, he doesn't have ..." The Joker raised his eyebrows expectantly, even thought he knew quite well what he was going to say. The farmer fidgeted awkwardly and then fleetingly made circular gestures around his mouth. "-- _that."_ The Joker smirked, relieved to know that some still found them menacing. "-- but, the damsels, as you see --" He gestured where the horde of beautiful women were once standing. "-- are willing to look past it for any substitute of Heathcliff's."

"You mean Squillers," the Joker automatically corrected, failing to notice that he was being considered as someone else's substitute.

"Well, you see, he's not on duty today," he informed, pleased to see that the conversation was becoming more casual than intimidating. He held his hands behind his back in a gentlemanly manner, and continued with his enlightenment. "On weekdays, he entertains strictly within the castle grounds. We must only call him Squillers if he is on the job for all the loyal subjects to enjoy."

The more he heard of him, the more the Joker became eager to meet his 'twin'. But he could only see him on a weekend and ... well, in Gotham, it was Friday night. But upon arriving here, it looked as if it were already morning.

"What day is it?" the Joker asked, his eyes fixated severely on the hay-littered ground.

"Pieday."

The Joker's gaze whipped up to him in confusion. "What? You mean _Friday?"_

"Oh, you must only be familiar with the archaic terms," the farmer replied, regarding him a pitying smile. He snapped back into his informative manner almost instantly. "Well! From 'Sunday' to the following 'Saturday', it goes Sunday, Punday, Stewsday, Friendsday, Verseday, Pieday and the Sabbath."

"The Sabbath?" That was strange; why did it not end in 'day' like the other outrageously named days?

"Yes..." the farmer replied, eying him as if the Joker's lack of immediate comprehension was worrying. "The holy day of rest and worship. Are you not baptized, my son?"

There was about five seconds of expecting something from one another. The Joker looked as if someone had the nerve to offer him ballet lessons.

"AHAHAHA!" the Joker suddenly exploded with laughter, both startling the farmer and evidently offending him. "Baptized? Buddy, I'm not even Christian!"

The Joker continued to laugh, slapping his thighs mirthfully within his hysterics, ignorant to the growing expression of vehement outrage on the farmer's face. The farmer now humorously resembled a big pink balloon with a face on it.

"Out!" The farmer's arm snapped up horizontally, like one of those neon, striped car park barriers. The Joker's laughter halted, but a mere look at the pink-faced farmer was a reminder, and he laughed again. This time, he laughed as he rose to his feet and took his time with waddling away.

The farmer continued to yell at him, agitated that the Joker took little regard to his fury. "Get off of my property!" He followed the Joker's exit path, but barely caught up with him with his little legs. "The power of Christ compels you!"

"As does your religious lunacy!" The Joker had stifled his laughter just to respond, and having said it, he began laughing at his own joke.

"You must never touch my daughter again!" The farmer shouted, shaking his fist in the air with rage, as the Joker seemed to be skipping off merrily, as if to patronize him. The Joker knew just as well as he did, that it was most likely that it was his daughter that had touched him anytime earlier.

A leaner, younger, female version of the farmer scuttled to him, wide-eyed with hysteria. "But papa, I love him!" she proclaimed in a melodramatic tone.

"Hush, child," he murmured in a comforting tone, after sighing in defeat. He threw his arm around his daughter's shoulder, and gave her a little reassuring squeeze. "We'll continue to court young Master Heathcliff."

The farmer heard his daughter sniff; it was enough to say that she was sad to see the Joker leave but wasn't disappointed that her chances with the other were gone. Before they returned to the barn together, they took one last look at the Joker, who had barely missed being run over by a passing horse and carriage. That had shut his laughter right up.

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**A/N: **I've been wanting to overcome this chapter for a while now. There's this talking dog that I want the Joker to meet soon...

R&R!


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